


Dana Striker

by Oshimos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Crossdressing, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshimos/pseuds/Oshimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider and damn it, sometimes you just want to look pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dana Striker

Your pulse quickens as you grasp the handle of your closet door, and you can’t help but feel like an idiot when you realize it. It’s just your closet, after all. You go into it every morning, take out some of your clothes, put them on, and go on with your day. Other than the odd weekend when you just throw on something from your floor, it’s pretty much a daily constant. What has your heart racing isn’t just the act of opening your closet, however. It’s thinking about what you’re going to take out if it.

You quadruple check that there’s nobody watching, despite the fact that your Bro’s out of town and that all of your friends have other plans tonight. Your door is locked, and your binds are closed for good measure. Slowly and deliberately, you open the door and push various ironic and not-so-ironic t-shirts out of the way, revealing a fairly inconspicuous hidden door. This door, too, is opened, though not before another peek over your shoulder or three. Finally, the strain of the gratuitous secrecy gets to you, and you yank out the hidden compartment and dump the contents onto your bed.

Sitting there, almost staring up at you, are various articles of slightly wrinkled women’s clothing, two wigs, a purse full of makeup, and a fake pair of breasts. You check one final time to make sure that you’re alone, let out a sigh of relief, and pick up a blouse and hold it up against yourself in front of your mirror.

Your name is Dave Strider and damn it, sometimes you just want to look pretty.

You put the blouse down and pick up a halter top. You had been planning this night for months, waiting for a Friday night when you knew you wouldn’t be interrupted. Bro had a gig as a DJ in the next town over, Jade was half way across the world doing who knows what, Rose had some kind of late night seminar with her psych people, and John was going on a pub crawl with some of his grad school friends. He’d actually begged you to go along, but you’d put on your patented coolkid face and claimed that a bunch of science dweebs would cramp your style too much, and after around an hour of arguing he finally gave up, despite never actually accepting ‘cool people things’ as a real reason why you couldn’t tag along with him.

You almost decide on the halter top before realizing that you’d tried to wear it last time, and had ended up looking like an idiot with the straps from your fake boobs sticking out. You make a mental note to check to see if they make strapless boobs before throwing it on top of the blouse.

This would actually be your fifth adventure in women’s clothing, though it had been nearly three months since the last. Each time you’d been bolder than previously, with your first ‘adventure’ consisting mostly of you walking around the block. From there, you’d advanced to riding the bus, buying things from several convenience stores, and going to the mall, where you’d bought a pair of heels. Tonight you’d be hitting a bar.

You pick up a red sundress, put it up against yourself, and swirl around. Yes, you think to yourself, this one’s probably the best. It was the first one you’d bought: an impulse purchase from some random site you probably wouldn’t be able to find again if you tried. You’d sat by the mail for the next week, making sure to pick up the package as soon as it got there for fear that someone else would find out. You’d probably have died if Bro had gotten to it first; you can just picture the look that would have been on his face upon discovering a package addressed to a ‘Ms. Dana Striker.’ You’d have been mortified.

…Though, you weren’t sure if your current state with him was much better. A few days after your first outing, you’d crept back to your secret compartment and discovered a neatly folded Japanese schoolgirl outfit sitting on top of your other things, complete with the stockings and in your size to boot. You’d almost screamed and nearly just thrown everything out, but in the end you couldn’t bring yourself to, and honestly, you were pretty glad you hadn’t. Bro never brought it up, and obviously neither did you, so in the end you ended up taking it as some sort of twistedly ironic yet extremely awkward approval, or at the very least indifference.

Still, knowing that Bro knew was hella awkward when you had to spend any amount of time around him. You shudder to think how it would be if any of your friends found out. Rose would no doubt psychoanalyze you to the ends of the earth, Jade would at the very least have her image of you totally destroyed, and you didn’t want to even think of how John would react. Normally he was a pretty go-with-the-flow kinda guy, but you’re pretty sure there are some things that normal guys don’t want their normal guy best friends to be doing, and you really don’t want John to start avoiding you. He’s an oblivious enough dork that you’re pretty sure he doesn’t pick up on most of the other things that ‘normal guy friends’ didn’t do, but crossdressing is a little too blatant.

You shudder a bit at the thought of losing John to a slip up and try to banish the thought from your mind. Tonight’s a night that’s just for you, and you’re going to live it up. You slide your wig into place and start applying various layers of makeup like you’d read about in the issue of Cosmo that you’d stolen from Rose’s place. You’re pretty sure that the subscription had been yet another passive aggressive present from her mother, and that the magazine would probably be happier in the hands of someone who’d actually get some use out of it.

You look yourself up and down in the mirror and can’t help but be impressed with your handiwork. You’re fairly small for a guy, and so with the wig and some makeup you think you manage to pull off the whole ‘totally not a dude in women’s clothing’ look pretty well. There was only one thing left.

You clear your throat and, with some trepidation, exclaim to your phone:  
“Why hello there sir! Why yes, it is a mighty fine night out tonight. Why no, I didn’t come here with anyone. Well, if you’d like to buy me a drink, I won’t refuse. Why thank you, you’re such a gentleman!”

You play it back to yourself. You’re not sure, but it almost sounds like you might have finally managed to pull off a tone closer to ‘southern belle’ than ‘flamboyantly gay man’s falsetto.’  
That’s it then. There’s no putting this off any longer. You grab your purse, stick your wallet and phone into it, walk to your door, take a deep breath, and slowly turn the knob.

Tonight is your night, and nobody’s going to stop you.

Tonight, Dana Striker hits the town.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to try my hand at writing again, after like, a year. I'm sorry to anyone who was reading my other fic; I'd still like to get back to it, but I think I was a bit to ambitious with the length of it. I wanted to write the good parts and ended up getting fed up with all of the in-between bits and I just kind of gave up. :\
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this fic, it'll probably only be two or three chapters, but I've been wanting to write it for quite some time. The next part definitely won't be that long coming, so look forward to it, and thanks for reading!


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